Recursion (OLD)
by Leyrann
Summary: Voldemort has won, but after the events of the day Draco Malfoy can no longer ignore that he chose the wrong side. He comes across a ritual to erase the past and send back his memories - at a price. SEE PROFILE FOR IMPORTANT UPDATE regarding this fic. Tldr: will be split into two separate fics. The first of those (Recursion) has gone live on May 6.
1. Prologue: The Return of Draco Malfoy

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything Harry Potter related.

* * *

**Prologue: The Return of Draco Malfoy**

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Potter slumped to the floor of the Great Hall, his wand rolling out of his hand. Calmly, the Dark Lord stepped forward under the gaze of the watching Death Eaters and sycophants. He picked up the wand and inspected it, then bowed down to inspect the boy.

"He is dead," the Dark Lord proclaimed. "The day has been won. Soon, we will celebrate our final victory over the pitiful resistance lead by the Boy-Who-Lives-No-Longer. But first, I need to handle a few things. Bellatrix, please step forward."

The madwoman left her spot in the silent row of lackeys and bowed before her master, an evil twinkle lighting her violet eyes. "My Lord?"

"You have done me proud," the Dark Lord said. "You have taken down many enemies this day, the young Longbottom and the mudblood among them. Let everyone here know that you are the most favored among my ranks. Whatever you wish, I will give you."

"Thank you, my Lord. I live to serve you."

The Dark Lord nodded to dismiss her. "Narcissa Malfoy."

Frightened, she stepped forward.

"About two hours ago," the Dark Lord said, "I gave you a simple task. Inspect the boy, and tell me if he is dead. You were unable to fulfill this task. _Crucio_."

She screamed, her arms and legs spasming wildly. The Dark Lord did not let go until Bellatrix stepped forward again.

"My Lord," she offered as he turned his eyes towards her, "please, allow me to deal with my sister's betrayal. It shall be to your satisfaction."

The Dark Lord considered that. "Yes, I will grant you this, Bellatrix. Take her somewhere else, so that I may continue my business here uninterrupted." The Dark Lord once again scanned his ranks. "Draco Malfoy, come forward."

Draco swallowed, but stepped forward, not willing to risk disobedience.

"When the castle was evacuated," his Lord said, "most Slytherins left with the other students, after which they joined my ranks. You, however, did not do so. I cannot reason other than that you decided to remain in the castle. Is this true?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco said, bowing deep.

"If that is the case, Draco, then why was Harry Potter still alive when I called the truce? Why, even, was he still alive when the battle started?"

_Because he saved my life_, Draco thought, keeping his eyes locked with the ground. "Because," he said, "I could not defeat him. I attempted to depose of him, but he, the mudblood and the blood-traitor were too much for us three. Vincent died in the fight, and Gregory and me only barely got away."

"Then you have failed me once again," the Dark Lord said. "_Crucio_."

Draco screamed under the immense pain, as if thousands of knives fought to be the first to pierce his every nerve. After what seemed an eternity, his Lord let go.

"Leave," he said, "and do not show yourself again unless I or a member of my Inner Circle calls on you. Let it be known you hold a position of disgrace."

Draco fought for control of his still twitching muscles to leave the room. His every nerve still burned with the torment they had just endured. It was the day of victory, when the Dark Lord had overcome his last opponent, when he finally took complete control of the country, with no one left to oppose him. And what did he do? He tortured his servants for failing to bring down his enemies, even if they tried. Of course, Draco hadn't actually tried in the end, but the Dark Lord did not know that. In reality, Potter had saved his life from Crabbe's Fiendfyre – and not only that, he and Weasley had done so a second time just a little later, during the fighting, stunning a Death Eater from under that blasted Cloak of Invisibility.

Somewhere else in the castle, his aunt was torturing his mother into insanity.

Draco knew he would never see her again – at least, not in a condition any different from the Longbottoms. He knew his aunt too well for that.

And last year, last year Dumbledore had known Draco had been ordered to kill him – at the time, Draco had thought it a bluff when Dumbledore had revealed that, but he had realized later that it had not been. And despite that, Dumbledore had let him continue, until that night on top of the astronomy tower, where he had told him why. Draco was not able to kill someone like him, not able to kill someone without a wand, someone he looked up to.

It was that night that he had started to doubt.

He'd had a year to stew it over, to try and force it down, but that single spark had always remained. When Potter had saved him from the Fiendfyre, risking his own life in the process, it had ignited once again, more powerful than ever before.

What did the Dark Lord do, when he had his victory? He tortured those who followed him.

What did Potter and Dumbledore do, when he tried to kill them? They saved him, protected him.

Draco sagged against the wall of whatever corridor was in when the truth he had been avoiding sank in.

He had chosen wrong. So, so wrong.

In his mind, he saw his mother's face as she was dragged away by her sister – her own blood! – and he cried for what seemed an eternity.

"Draco Malfoy, what hurts you so much?" The feminine voice was soothing and caring. Though he found himself trusting it, Draco knew for certain he had not heard it before in his life. He blinked away his tears and looked in the direction it came from to find a transparent woman – not a ghost – standing in the hallway, wearing a green dress that went all the way down to her feet, yet left her arms exposed. It was simple but beautiful, and complemented her black hair and blue eyes.

"Who… who are you?"

"I am Lady Hogwarts, and I watch over all my students and former students. Do not worry, I would never betray a student's secrets."

"I chose wrong," was all he could say.

Lady Hogwarts approached him.

"And what can you do about it?" she prodded.

"I don't… Are you saying I should try to resist the Dark Lord?"

She shook her head. "Do you believe that will work?"

"Never. He is too powerful, and all his opposition is already gone. I'd be… I'd be all alone."

"Come, stand. It's easier to think if you're walking."

Reluctantly, he got up and started walking, Lady Hogwarts falling in step beside him.

"What should I do?" he asked.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know! I… I don't know… It's too late to do anything. The Dark Lord has already won. I can't just go back in time and change things." He was silent for a moment, then looked to the Lady, an ember of hope igniting in his heart. "Can I?"

The Lady smiled at him. "The possibilities of magic are endless. I cannot give you many answers, as it is not in my nature, but perhaps magic can assist you even in this. I hope you may someday find what you require to obtain peace of mind, Draco."

The Lady faded into nothingness, and for a moment Draco thought he had imagined the entire conversation, but then his eye fell on the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls, and the last line the Lady had said played again in his mind. _I hope you may someday find what you _require_ to obtain peace of mind, Draco_.

Had she led him here intentionally? Would the Room of Requirement be able to provide even this? He started pacing back and forth. _I want to right what went wrong_. After the customary three times back and forth the door appeared, and he stepped through, curious what he would find.

The room he was in was not big, appearing as a small, personal sitting room with a fire cracking in the hearth and a comfortable stuffed chair next to it. A small table stood next to the chair, with a single, thin book on it. Several book shelves lined the walls, and a single door led to a different room. Curious, Draco sat down in the chair and picked up the book. _Unwrapping Time_, it was called, written by… Rowan Ravenclaw?

As far as Draco knew, no one with that name had ever existed – in fact, Rowena Ravenclaw had taken her surname upon herself, and she had had only one daughter, Helena, who had never married. These two people would be the only ones bearing the name in all of history. Curious, he opened the book, which despite it's obvious age was written is modern English.

_Greetings, reader,_ it started. _Within this book lies my greatest secret, to be revealed only to those in the most dire of needs. First, let me introduce myself. I was born in 962 as Rowan of Aberdeen, a minor nobleman from the east of Scotland and a halfblood wizard. At the age of 29, I met with two other wizards and a witch to perform various magical rituals in the Scottish heartland. One of these rituals, performed in a remote valley, caused a number of unintended side effects and cost the two other wizards their lives. While I spent several months recovering from my own injuries, I examined the valley and it's magic, finding something highly unusual._

_As I discovered, the various flows of magic that permeate our world and fuel our rituals are not equally distributed. In particular, this valley was situated on a node of time. This is what caused our ritual to go haywire, as we had been attempting to create time sand, a substance that can manipulate time (it should at this point be noted that the ritual was performed correctly and has been used in other locations since, with time sand being the active component of time turners). With this new knowledge, I realized that this location would allow for much more than making time turners – which really are more items of curiosity than anything else due to their penchant for creating paradoxes._

_At this location in the world – and I strongly believe only here – it was possible to instead perform a ritual to _reverse_ time, undoing all events of several years of history, even all the way up to a decade. I managed to create and perform this ritual, and found it had a highly unusual cost associated to it. Where most rituals require something physical, like blood, animal life, or for a more demanding ritual even part of the caster's body or even, in the case of some Dark Arts, human sacrifice, this ritual requires none of that. After all, the very effect of the ritual undoes all these costs. The only cost it has – though significant – is that it rewrites history even beyond the point to which the one who performs the ritual returns, and changes their gender as well as everyone's memories of that person to be in accordance to this change. I have performed this ritual myself, to go back from 993 to 985, and then sought contact with the wizards and witch I had previously been working with._

_After proving I had knowledge that could only have come from the future, they decided to work with me. We all agreed that this ritual could be very dangerous, but also extremely powerful. After several weeks of discussing the matter at hand, we decided we would not teach the ritual itself. Rather, we would create a number of limitations to avoid both rediscovery and the possibility of the knowledge falling into the wrong hands, while at the same time ensuring this knowledge would always be available to those we considered worthy of it._

_To this end, we built a castle to serve as protection for the location of the ritual – as well as each taking on a new name to signify our new responsibility. In addition to that, we hid the knowledge of the ritual inside the castle – in this very book – guarded by many charms, enchantments and more. Last, we gave the castle a measure of sentience to allow it to lead people in the right direction. For this spell to be effective, however, the given sentience required a certain amount of familiarity to the person. To ensure this familiarity would be in place with as many people as possible, we turned the castle into a school for all wizards and witches of the British Isles. Even for those who are no longer students, the castle's sentience will only need a few minutes to reacquaint itself with them if they come to visit._

_To be a little more specific, the castle requires of any person that they possess four qualities, one for each of the Founders, as well the aim to save lives or otherwise avoid major crimes that have taken place in the past. The four qualities are the ambition to set right what went wrong, the wisdom to know how to approach the problem, the dedication to repeat several years of their life to achieve their aim, and the courage to dive into the unknown._

At this point, Draco stopped reading and looked up, finding Lady Hogwarts watching him.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked.

The Lady smiled. "What House are you, Draco?"

"Slytherin," he answered, surprised. Surely she knew that.

"Ambition, cunning, resourcefulness. You may be out of grace with your Lord, but your family has supported him for a long time, and you will still be able to obtain a comfortable position in the world he plans to shape. But you're here, hoping to unwind time. What are you planning on doing in the past?"

"To… to help bring down the Dark Lord."

"If you were to turn back time," the Lady said, "you would once again be the only child of your Lord's right hand. If you were to play your cards right, you could become your father's successor. And yet, that's not your aim. You wish to join the side that lost the war and was killed to a man. You were – rightfully so – sorted into Slytherin, but what you wish to do now is not just that. You have the ambition to set right what went wrong – to defeat the Dark Lord, rather than aid his victory. But you also have the wisdom to know how to approach the situation, by seeking the companionship of the man – the boy – you have hated for the last seven years. You have the dedication to go through with that, as well as going through your teenage years again, to achieve the goal. And last of all, you have the courage to do so. Perhaps it is what you have seen in Harry Potter, and the last night in particular, but you are no longer the boy that was sorted into Slytherin almost before the hat even touched his head, Draco."

He remained silent for a minute, going through his thoughts.

"What am I supposed to do? I don't… I don't even know if I want to do this." He held up the book. "I don't like Potter, even if he's saved my life… Twice… If I would see him again, I think I'd still want to try and curse him with that stupid scar of his." By now the words came streaming out of his mouth. "And even if not, what am I supposed to do? Buddy up to him? I'm a Malfoy, there's no way he's just going to accept me. And even if he would, his best friends are a mudblood – er, muggleborn – and a _Weasley_. And I don't even know what they've been up to this entire year! I have no idea what happened during that Triwizard Tournament task! I know that they did _something_ with the Chamber of Secrets, but how am I supposed to help them out? I don't know anything of what they've done! I can't just worm my way in there and be part of their group like it's nothing. I'd be useless!"

Lady Hogwarts stepped up to him and laid a solid – surprisingly so – hand on his shoulder.

"I cannot tell you much," she said, "at least not other than what I am supposed to do and what you deep down already know, but I trust that if you go back to the day you first met Harry Potter, you will be fine. And… it is alright to doubt yourself, as long as you do not let the doubt rule you. A very Hufflepuff quality, and one that too many people lack. But I know you do not, Draco. Do you wish to do this?"

"How can I not?"

She chuckled. "Spoken like a Gryffindor."

He snapped his head at the Lady, about to retort, when he realized that it was a very Gryffindor thing to say indeed. A Slytherin always had a choice.

He stood and opened the door to the second room, which turned out to be an austere room with a large cauldron in the middle. Against the walls stood shelves with various ingredients and all kinds of tools, as well as a shelf filled with various kinds of food under a conservation charm. Though most of the floor was simple, indeterminate grey stone, it was interrupted by various lines of a differently colored stones.

"As far as history is concerned, this will be the first time anyone performs the ritual," Lady Hogwarts said. "After all, when the ritual has been performed, it is then undone by it's own power." She walked over to the shelf with food. "The ritual takes about three days to perform, which is why Rowena made sure food was supplied. Luckily, as the food is no longer consumed once the ritual has been performed – once again, that act has been undone – it is still here a thousand years later. The same holds true for the ingredients, so everything you need is present here.

"Oh, and one last thing in case you don't read _Unwrapping Time_ properly, the ritual marks your blood even in the past, leaving you unable to perform it a second time. I'll stay here in case you want to talk, but I cannot physically help you in performing the ritual, nor can I guide you through it – you have to use the book for that."

Draco looked around and saw a chair appearing just behind him, so he sat down and started reading through the instructions of the ritual. The book consisted of the introduction – which only continued a little while after what he'd read already -, a step by step guide of the ritual and a lot of arithmancy, ancient runes and more that he wasn't interested in, which was used to explain why the ritual did what it did.

Some two hours later Draco had read through all the steps, swallowed heavily a few times at some of the instructions, checked whether he indeed had all ingredients available in the required quantities, and started the ritual itself. It wasn't too hard – just time consuming. And not a little scary near the end. First off, he had to fill the cauldron with water and add a number of ingredients, every time a set coming from different parts of the life cycle of a plant or animal. Then, he had to let it simmer for about an hour while drawing various outlines on the ground with chalk, as indicated by the colors on the floor. That was followed up by half an hour of stirring, which caused his arms to quite vocally question his decision to go through with this, and again he had to let the mix simmer, this time adding even more ingredients at various moments. It was calm enough that he had the time to eat something, however. It continued like that for several more hours, after which he reached a point where the mix had to simmer at least two hours, but it wouldn't harm to let it stand any longer, and the text advised for him to get some sleep and continue the next day, which he did.

That second day continued much like the first, simmering, drawing outlines, adding ingredients, stirring, until sometime in what was probably the afternoon – judging by the number of hours outlined in the instruction. Suddenly, the room started to shake, and Draco found himself growing worried.

"What's happening?" he asked Lady Hogwarts, who was still hanging around the edges of the room, watching his progress.

"That is the Dark Lord," she said. "He is looking for something in the room where Vincent Crabbe unleashed the Fiendfyre. Do not worry, he will not be able to enter the Room in any way. The charm that protects this specific Room is similar in nature to the Fidelius charm that was developed later, and I am it's Secret Keeper. The Dark Lord knows the Room should be there, but he cannot find it, nor will he be able to destroy it."

"What if he destroys the castle?" Draco asked, still worried.

"He won't," the Lady said, "but even if he would, this room would survive, for it is not actually on the seventh floor of the castle. Hogwarts is said to be the safest place in Britain, and this is the safest place in Hogwarts."

Draco turned back to the ritual. He'd attempted to make small talk with the Lady, but apart from his own experiences and general history, she wasn't of much help. Part of her essence, apparently, kept her from spilling other student's secrets – even the Dark Lord's – whether or not doing so was actually harmful. In fact, she could not even tell him what Potter and his friends had been up to during their years at Hogwarts.

The rest of the second day passed, and again he reached a point where the mixture was allowed to simmer for a long time, and he took his sleep.

The third day came – the Dark Lord had since given up trying to break into the Room – and Draco once again continued with the ritual for several hours, until he was almost finished. One ingredient to add to the cauldron, but first… Hesitantly – she was a personification, not an actual person, but _still_ – he pulled off his robes and underclothing. Next, he picked up the dagger that had been left on the shelf up to now and made a shallow cut on his arm, then smeared out the blood in the pattern indicated by the red stone, followed by the marks that would ensure he would be sent back to the correct day. Luckily, Lady Hogwarts had been able to supply to him that it had been July 31st when he'd first met Harry Potter. Then, he stepped up to the cauldron, ready to add the last ingredient.

He took a deep breath.

"You can do it," Lady Hogwarts said.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"You know of someone who has performed this ritual," she said. "I cannot tell you who, and he is no longer alive, but he was in a similar position to you. More similar, in fact, than I think anyone else who has walked these halls in the last century, if not longer." She stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder again. "You are not alone, Draco."

"Who?" he asked.

She smiled. "I cannot tell the secrets of my students. Perhaps he will tell you someday. In fact, I would expect that to happen. Show your courage, now, before the bloodlines lose their effect."

He took a deep breath. And plunged the dagger into his heart.

"Heartblood," he whispered with his last breath, "as sacrifice and lifesource, to fuel my journey."

Draco Malfoy lost consciousness, bowed over the cauldron.

As the blood entered the mixture he had created, it lit up like the dawn, bathing the Room of Requirement in a bright light. In an expanding wave, the various chalk lines started glowing white, while the bloodlines exploded in a brilliant red. It seemed as if the Room itself came apart, torn into pieces so small the naked eye could not observe them. The effect radiated outward, and shining white cracks seemed to appear in Hogwarts, expanding over the countryside and soon over the entire world as time started to unwind. The laws of physics seemed to collapse upon themselves as what had happened now existed no longer, and the Earth wound back to the past. Days, weeks, months, years, it's power channeled by instructions that yet had to be written. Seven years into the past.

It was 1991, and there was no indication of what the future would hold.

* * *

**AN: Some people have been asking me about relationships. Currently I do not have any pairings planned out. In time, you will see why.**


	2. Ch 1-2: Back in Time

**AN1: Woo! Update! I've been having a bit of trouble getting writing done. In particular, I noticed I found it harder to write when sticking **_**too**_** close to canon. The cross-referencing just eats away at both my speed and my enjoyment. Therefore, I aim to not stick **_**quite**_** as close to canon as I've done in most of these two chapters. Hopefully, that will speed up my writing. At the very least, the one major scene in this update that isn't in canon (1500 words, roughly) took only about an hour to write, far quicker than the rest of the chapter.**

**AN2: As you can see, this update, which is one chapter for ffnet, contains two chapters according to my own counting. This is because I prefer a somewhat shorter chapter length of 2000-3000 words (though these two chapters are together over 7000 total), but I don't want to split the story into **_**too**_** many pieces. Most of the time, a single update here will include two or three chapters according to my own counting, and the word count will be something between 5000-10000 in most cases. Exceptions may occur.**

**AN3: You'll recognize quite a few bits (in particular dialogue) from the early chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. (and yes, I think changing the name to Sorcerer's Stone is stupid, and I won't call it that in the story itself, but it's the version I have, plus I write American English because I'm more familiar with it)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Boy-Who-Lived**

Lyra Malfoy woke up with a splitting headache.

Somehow, her memories were blurry, like one's vision could be when looking through tears.

As she lay in bed, barely keeping in a groan, they started to order themselves, and the realization of what she had done – or would do? – came to her. Yet, at the same time, there were the memories from the life she'd lived to now – a girl born to a rich pureblood family, raised to believe the Dark Lord was a great man all should follow.

_If they want to be tortured into insanity_, she commented sarcastically.

That did not mean she could simply refuse her parents, however. For one, an overnight change in behavior would be far too noticeable. She'd always been the perfect pureblood girl. It would have to be a more gradual change.

She still lay in bed, making plans, when her mother called from downstairs to get up and ready, as they'd be leaving for Diagon Alley today.

"Coming!" Lyra yelled back, pushing off the covers and walking over to the wardrobe.

_Good thing I got this life's memories as well_, she found herself thinking, _or I'd have no idea what I'm supposed to wear_. Of course, she _was_ about to get a whole new set of clothing too… and suddenly she found herself wondering whether she would actually be able to meet Potter today. After all, they'd talked while their robes were being fitted, would boys and girls even be fitted in the same room?

Well, worst case she'd have to look for him on the train. She picked some clothes and made her way downstairs.

"Good morning," she said, trying not to yawn. Luckily, most of the headache was gone by now.

"Good morning," her father mumbled back, turning the page of the_ Daily Prophet_. The front page didn't look too interesting, so the rest probably wasn't either. Just Fudge messing up – and Lyra figured her father probably had something to do with that.

She attempted to eat her breakfast in silence, but her mother kept fussing over her, asking question after question whether she'd be alright and what kind of cauldron she wanted and was she looking forward to perhaps meeting other children that would also go to Hogwarts and should she and dad get stuff for her by themselves and if so what would be the smartest way to go about it and… Lyra sighed.

"It'll be fine, mom."

"I suppose," she said. "Make sure to be polite. It wouldn't be good to tick off a pureblood before even getting to Hogwarts."

"I'll probably tick off enough of them at school," Lyra muttered. The entirety of Slytherin, for example.

"What was that?" Narcissa asked, suspicious.

"Nothing."

"Good." Narcissa quickly shoved some food into her own mouth. "Well, let's go. Nothing but the best for our princess."

Lucius put down the newspaper and together they took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, it was off to Gringotts first, where Lyra's father withdrew a sizable pile of galleons – not that it was noticable among the heaps and heaps of gold that filled the vault. Then, her parents dropped her at Madam Malkin's and left, Lucius to buy her books and Narcissa to buy the first year potion ingredients. Lyra let out a smile imagining just how _easy_ potions would be this first year. The subject was almost all knowledge, so while she might have to relearn wandwork for the other subjects – she wasn't sure just how much of her abilities she retained after going back in time –, she still had everything she needed for potions. And to top it off, she was Snape's favorite.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she heard Madam Malkin ask in the distance. One of Malkin's assistants was currently taking Lyra's measurements. "Got the lot here," Malkin continued, "a young woman being fitted up just now, in fact."

She put Potter on the stool right next to Lyra – which wasn't all that surprising, she realized. After all, it was a woman – Madam Malkin – doing Potter's measurements.

"Hello," Lyra said. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes."

_And now don't start talking about yourself like last time, Lyra_. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"I guess," Potter said. "I didn't even know about magic until today."

Oh, of course. She'd known about that, somewhere deep down. She went with the logical next question in this situation, making sure to keep her voice neutral, or even curious.

"Are you muggleborn, then?"

"No," Potter said, "but my parents died when I was young and I grew up with my muggle uncle and aunt."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What happened to them?"

"They were killed by Vol – I mean, by You-Know-Who."

Lyra pretended to just now notice the scar – admittedly, it had mostly been hidden by Potter's hair. She feigned surprise the best she could.

"Wait… Are you… Harry Potter?"

"Uh, yes," Potter said, looking embarrassed. "Who are you?"

"Lyra Malfoy," she introduced herself. It felt surprisingly natural.

"Nice to meet you." Potter still looked a little uncomfortable. The Malfoy name didn't seem to ring a bell for him. Well, good thing too. That was going to make it all a lot easier.

"Nice to meet you too," Lyra replied. Time to play the situation so that she would appear forced to help Potter out. "You got any idea what House you'll be in?"

"No," Potter said, unsure. _Too timid_, Lyra thought. _You were supposed to ask me about it_. Time to prod some more then.

"Which one would you prefer?"

"I don't know." He attempted to shrug it off, but looked decidedly uncomfortable.

_Just tell me you don't know what I'm talking about, damnit._

"Wait," Lyra said, "you don't even know about Hogwarts' Houses, do you?" How did that 'even' slip in there?

"No," Potter said with a small voice. Finally.

"Hogwarts has four Houses," Lyra said, "and each student is sorted into one of them depending on their qualities-" Before she could explain more, Madam Malkin had finished and told Potter he was ready to go. He looked back and forth between Lyra and Hagrid – who had apparently returned – for a moment but left when Hagrid held up two cones of ice cream. _Oh, wait, I made some derogatory comments about him last time around, didn't I?_ Perhaps she could fix that as well. Malkin's assistant told her the fitting was done and Lyra hurried out of the shop – her parents had already paid upfront. Indeed, it appeared Potter was lingering outside. That was already an improvement over last time, when he'd been long gone – at least as far as Lyra could remember; it wasn't like she'd cared about the random boy she only learned later was Potter.

Hagrid looked her over as she stepped outside. "This the girl yeh were talkin' abou', Harry?" He stuck out a large hand, which Lyra shook. "Rubeus Hagrid. Yeh were tellin' Harry abou' the Houses?"

Lyra nodded as she introduced herself. Quickly, she continued, making sure to not give Hagrid any time to react to her name. "Yeah, we were talking and he hadn't heard about the Houses, so I figured I'd tell him about them, but just then his measurements were finished and then he noticed you outside with ice cream." She gave her best smile.

"Guess it can't hurt to tell yeh a little abou' them, Harry," Hagrid said, eyeing Lyra a little wearily. She couldn't blame him.

"So, four Houses," Lyra tried to pick up the conversation from earlier. "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor. As I said, each House looks for different qualities in their students. Slytherin looks for cunning and ambition, Ravenclaw for intelligence and a desire to learn, Hufflepuff for loyalty and determination, and Gryffindor looks for courage and bravery."

Hagrid, for all his admiration of Gryffindor and disdain of Slytherin, seemed to consider this explanation fair enough to not warrant further comment.

"Well, Harry," he said, "we need to buy yer school supplies. Quills an' stuff."

Harry got out his letter and looked it over quickly, then nodded. "Nice meeting you, Lyra."

She returned a smile. "Nice meeting you too."

Well, she thought as the two walked away, that went much better than expected. If she'd have realized just how mallable the boy had been that first time around – and had been a little less bullheaded herself, at the time – she would've probably gotten him into Slytherin repeating pureblood beliefs before the end of first year.

Slytherin probably wasn't the right House for him though. It was clear that the Dark Lord had a special interest in Potter – and beyond the whole rebounding Killing Curse thing. She just hoped that her and Potter's different relationship this time around wouldn't mean he'd get sorted into a different House – he'd always displayed some Slytherin qualities, not to mention the fact that he was a Parselmouth.

But back to the matter at hand. Time to find her parents before they'd start wondering where she was or who she'd talked to.

* * *

"Harry," Hagrid said as they left the office supply shop, "yeh'll need ter be careful 'round that girl."

"Why?" Harry inquired. She'd acted like he should know more he did, but really, so had Hagrid last night. And once she'd realized he _didn't_ know anything about Hogwarts she'd started telling him about the Houses. All in all, she seemed a nice enough girl.

"She's a Malfoy," Hagrid said. "Very dark family, supported You-Know-Who in the last war, then bought themselves out when he disappeared."

"She didn't seem that bad!" Harry protested.

Hagrid patted his shoulder with considerable force. "Just be careful. Maybe…" He trailed off, seemingly thinking over his words. "Harry, if she's nice at Hogwarts too, don' be afraid ter become friends with her, but make sure if yer can trust her.

"Anyway, let's get yer school books."

Harry remained troubled for a while, but that disappeared soon enough when they entered the bookstore with it's many, many books on all kinds of spells.

* * *

August went by without much excitement, though Lyra purposefully distanced herself a little from Vincent and Gregory. She'd prefer them to go somewhere else on the train; that would make it much easier to buddy up to Potter. On the morning the Hogwarts Express was leaving she met up with them at the station, and luckily Vincent made a crude joke, allowing Lyra to get angry about it and refuse to talk to them – somehow managing not to snicker at the same joke the entire time.

She looked through the train for a bit, trailing her trunk behind her, and found what she was pretty sure had been Potter and Weasley's cabin last time around – and if not she'd get up and look for them. She tried to push her trunk up into the luggage rack, but gave up after a few attempts, giving her thin, feminine arms an angry glare.

Soon enough, Potter appeared in the hallway, his trunk carried by the Weasley twins. Lyra gave a quick wave.

"Hi. Nice to see you again."

"Hi."

"Hey, could you help me with my trunk? I tried to get it into the luggage rack, but it's too heavy for me."

"Oh, sure," Potter said, joining her in the compartment. Together, they easily lifted the trunk into the rack. The twins entered behind them and put Potter's trunk in the rack as well.

"Thank you, Harry," Lyra said, giving him a smile.

That also got the attention from the twins.

"Blimey," said one of them, looking at Potter's forehead. "Are you – ?"

"He _is_," said the other twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Potter.

"What?" Potter asked.

"_Harry Potter_," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," Potter said. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Potter's cheeks went red.

"Fred? George?" a voice came from the open door of the train. "Are you there?"

Their heads snapped away. "Coming, mom."

They gave Potter one more look and hopped off the train.

"I wish people wouldn't stare at me like that," Potter said.

"I can imagine," Lyra said. In the distance, they could hear the Weasley family saying goodbye to one another. She wasn't certain how she felt about having to get along with them… And getting along with Potter but not with them probably wasn't an option.

"Are all of your family wizards?" Potter asked.

"Yeah," Lyra said, turning her attention back to the Boy-Who-Lived. "As far as we can trace back at least, which is quite far."

"Really?" Potter asked. "I don't even know who my grandparents are…"

"Most pureblood families can trace their ancestors back hundreds of years," Lyra said. "You know, I think your father could too."

"You know about my father?" Potter asked, excited.

"Not much," Lyra said truthfully. "My parents made me learn all the prominent pureblood families, which included the Potters." The door to the compartment opened before Lyra had a chance to say anything more, which was probably a good thing as Potter wasn't likely to be interested in the details of pureblood families.

"Can I sit here?" Ron Weasley asked. "Everywhere else is full."

"Sure," Potter said.

Weasley sat next to them, looking at both her and Potter for a moment before looking out of the window. Moments later, a voice came from the train corridor.

"Hey, Ron," said one of the twins.

"Listen, we're going to the middle of the train," said the other. "Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Weasley mumbled.

"Oh," the first twin said, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," Weasley and Potter said.

Weasley again glanced at Potter, then again looked out of the window.

"Well, I guess I should introduce myself then," Lyra said, looking at Weasley. "As your brothers already introduced you and I've met Harry before. I'm Lyra Malfoy." She stuck out her hand.

Weasley blinked at her, apparently trying to figure out what to say to the daughter of his father's nemesis.

"Something wrong with my name?" Lyra asked after a few seconds.

"Uh, no uhm, it's just…" Weasley stuttered. He coughed. "Well, uhm…"

"Oh, cut it. If you don't like my family, come out and say it."

Potter was watching the conversation with interest as well as, it seemed, some nervousness. Lyra figured he was probably thinking of a way to relieve the tension. It seemed like the kind of thing he'd want to do.

"You know what, Weasley," she said, "How about we ignore what our parents think of one another and just try to get off to a good start?"

Weasley grumbled for a moment and then turned his attention towards Potter. "So… are you really Harry Potter?"

Potter nodded.

"Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," Weasley said. "And have you really got – you know…"

He pointed at Potter's forehead.

"I don't know for sure," Lyra remarked, "but I'd think he's getting quite annoyed by now at everyone asking to see his scar and shake his hand and kiss his feet."

Potter looked disgusted at the idea.

"Oh, sorry," Weasley said. "I didn't mean to, it's just… sorry."

"It's fine," Potter waved it away. "So, you two both grew up with wizards? You must know loads of magic already."

Weasley looked a little uneasy at the question.

"Some," Lyra said, "but we're not allowed to buy a wand until the summer before Hogwarts. And I know there are also parents that don't allow their children to use magic at home. I'd bet the Weasleys are one of those families."

"Uh, yeah," Weasley said with a small voice.

"Really? Why not?" Potter asked.

"It's not allowed by the Ministry," Lyra explained, "and they have ways of finding out if magic is used by children. If you live in a wizarding home they can't do that though, because it could be the parents or an older sibling using magic. So then it just depends on your parents, and mine really don't care if I use magic at home."

"I bet you think yourself above all rules," Weasley muttered just loud enough for Lyra to hear.

"You'd be surprised." She let out a chuckle. "You know, you should make less assumptions about me. You know far less about me than you think."

"Oh, and you know so much about me?" Weasley demanded angrily.

"I didn't say that. I'll be honest, Weasley, I'm hoping we can just get along. It doesn't do any good to fight one another."

"That, coming from a Malfoy?"

"_Yes_," Lyra said, some annoyance creeping into her voice. Git. "That coming from a Malfoy. We're people too, you know. We aren't all the same." She turned back to Potter.

"Our parents don't really get along," she apologized. "Actually, they _really don't_ get along."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Because her father's a Death Eater!" Weasley blurted out.

"A what?" Potter asked.

"Follower of You-Know-Who," Lyra said. "And I don't know if my father was one. He never told me." She congratulated herself on having lasted this long in the past before having to lie to someone.

"Everyone knows he just bought himself out," Weasley complained.

Lyra shrugged. "I'm not my father." It really was time to ease the conversation somewhat… Ah, of course.

"What are your favorite Quidditch teams?"

And off Weasley went, talking about the _Chudley Cannons_ of all teams. A few minutes in, Potter interjected.

"Uhm, what's Quidditch?"

"What!" Weasley looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world –" and he started explaining, Lyra helping out whenever she could find a place to squeeze in a sentence.

All in all, the topic of Quidditch managed to release a lot of the tension, until eventually the candy cart passed along. Potter immediately leapt to his feet and started browsing everything available, while Weasley muttered something about sandwiches. After a few minutes, Potter brought basically every kind of candy available back and dropped it on an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?" Weasley said, staring.

"Starving," Potter replied as he took a bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Weasley had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it as Lyra watched with interest. He made a face when he pulled out a sandwich and peeked between the slices. "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," Potter offered, holding up a pasty. "Go on –"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," Weasley said. He seemed to want to say more, but then glanced at Lyra and proceeded not to.

"Go on, have a pasty," Potter insisted. Finally, Weasley accepted. "What about you?" Potter looked towards Lyra.

She thought of her own lunch, which was a little fancier than what Weasley had brought. Perhaps best not to show that off. Potter had bought enough for three anyway. "Thank you," she said, accepting the cauldron cake.

"What are these?" Potter asked after a few seconds, holding a pack of chocolate frogs. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?"

Lyra barely held in a snicker as Weasley explained what they were. From there, the topic went to the collectible cards and on to various famous people depicted on the cards – Dumbledore among them. Next came a lengthy session of tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans until eventually the compartment door opened and a chubby boy looked in. Lyra needed a second or two to realize she was looking at Longbottom.

"Sorry," Longbottom said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

"No, sorry," Lyra answered.

"I've lost him!" he wailed. "He keeps getting away from me!"

Lyra barely kept herself from commenting on his behavior, trying to imagine the leader of last year's resistance. It was hard.

"He'll turn up," Potter said. Sheesh. How had Lyra missed just _how much_ of a nice guy Potter was? She doubted there would be more than maybe ten people on this entire train patient enough to comfort the boy.

"Yes," Longbottom said, still sounding miserable. "Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Weasley commented. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk." _Right on both counts, Weasley_. The rat was snoozing on his lap. Then, he started talking about how he'd tried to turn the animal yellow yesterday, and pulled out a wand that should have been thrown into the trashcan years ago. And here Lyra had thought it was that crash with the car in second year that had damaged it. She stifled a giggle when she remembered the slugs Weasley had forced himself to throw up.

Just when he was about to cast the spell, Longbottom entered the compartment again, this time joined by the Granger girl.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Lyra felt instant dislike on hearing the bossy voice – which was kind of odd, actually, as she'd known the girl for seven years and had disliked her for just as many.

Weasley tried to tell her Longbottom had already passed by, but Granger didn't even notice. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then," and sat down.

Weasley got over his surprise and cast – well, it couldn't really be called a spell. It was more of a rhyme. This time, Lyra did start giggling despite her attempts not to. Weasley, who had grown up _surrounded_ by wizards, believed this was an actual spell? Even Granger got to the right conclusion.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" She then went off and started talking at roughly twice the speed Lyra – and probably anyone else – was able to keep up with. Just how had this girl managed to become friends with those two?

"I'm Ron Weasley," Weasley muttered. Oh, she'd given her name.

"Lyra Malfoy," Lyra said.

"Harry Potter."

And off Granger went again, talking about how she'd read about him. Lyra did everything in her power to keep her face blank. And as suddenly as she'd come, she left again, to continue the Quest for the Missing Toad.

"Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Weasley complained. He threw his wand in his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

_Are you kidding me?_ Lyra thought. _You actually _trusted_ him to give you a real spell? How naive _are_ you?_

"What House are your brothers in?" asked Potter.

"Gryffindor," said Weasley. "Mom and dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Lyra demanded.

"Isn't that the House Vol – You-Know-Who was in?" Potter asked.

"Yeah," Weasley said. "All evil wizards were."

"That doesn't mean everyone in Slytherin is evil!" Lyra protested.

"Oh?" Weasley glared at her.

"My entire family was in Slytherin!"

He barked a laugh. "That's not saying much!"

"So, Ron," Potter interjected, "what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left school, anyway?"

Weasley started explaining about his family, then they got on the topic of the Gringotts break-in – ah yes, Lyra had forgotten about that – and from there on they talked about a variety of things regarding the wizarding world, mostly explaining things to Potter. Not much more happened, and a few hours later they found themselves in the cave under the castle.

Oh, and Longbottom had finally gotten that stupid toad back somehow.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Back to School**

As they entered Hogwarts, professor McGonagall led the first years to antechamber next to the Great Hall, where she told them about the sorting. Lyra ignored the nervous buzzing around her from everyone, wondering what they would have to do. A few minutes passed, and suddenly most of the castle's ghost population entered the room through one of the walls, discussing whether they should get rid of Peeves. Lyra had long since determined they did this every year with the – pretty successful – goal to scare the first years. While the ghosts were still there, McGonagall returned to shepherd everyone into the Great Hall.

The Hat sang its song, and Lyra found herself snickering at Weasley's comment about wrestling with a troll before McGonagall started calling out names. One by one, everyone got sorted – of course in the same Houses they'd been last time around – and Lyra found herself paying little attention to the Hat, instead judging the reactions of the staff table to the various sortings. Eventually MacDougal, Morag was sorted, and next…

"Malfoy, Lyra."

She stepped forward and put on the Hat. Last time around, this has been the moment where it'd shouted Slytherin.

"Now that's a bleak future," a small voice next to Lyra's ear said. The Hat, no doubt. "A Slytherin last time around, I see. And yet, and yet… you returned to the past without much of a plan, led only by hope."

_What do you mean?_ Lyra asked.

"You were Slytherin last time around," the Hat said, "and I could definitely put you there again. But the manner in which you decided to come to the past… You've definitely earned yourself some Gryffindor qualities as well, over the years."

_What?_ Lyra thought, incredulous.

"Oh, yes. Lady Hogwarts already explained it to you, didn't she? You felt obligated to return, even though you still certainly had options. I'll leave it to you, Gryffindor or Slytherin."

Well, that was… unexpected. Her parents would be… displeased if she would become a Gryffindor – or anything but a Slytherin, really – but it would make it that much easier to befriend Potter and his friends. The trouble with her family would be worth it. Hopefully.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore barely stopped himself from gasping. Until now, the sorting hadn't brought any real surprises, and he always made it something of a game to guess where students would be going. The young Malfoy, he had considered one of the safest bets – for Slytherin, that was. The last time he'd been this surprised by a sorting had been some twenty years ago.

Indeed, it seemed most people were surprised by this turn of events, judging by the number of stares and open mouths. It took Albus himself two seconds to get over his surprise and start clapping, as he did for every student. Luckily for the girl, the rest of Gryffindor followed Albus' example. Surely she herself would be surprised by this turn of events as well – it wouldn't do for her House to not welcome her now.

* * *

Lyra sat down next to Granger and Longbottom, saying a quick hello before watching the rest of the sorting. Indeed, it continued without any more surprises – unless you counted her own sorting of course – and soon they were joined by Potter and Weasley. As the last student, Blaise got sorted into Slytherin and Dumbledore rose.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down and the Hall cheered.

"Is he – a bit mad?" Potter asked uncertainly.

Lyra barely stopped herself from answering affirmatively.

"Mad?" Percy Weasley said airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Lyra hadn't hesitated a moment when the food appeared on the table and had loaded her plate already, while Potter was gazing around like he'd never seen so much food before – and, Lyra suddenly realized, he probably hadn't. Nearly Headless Nick's comment on the food sparked a discussion on Hogwarts' ghosts, and from there the table went from subject to subject as Lyra tried to participate without revealing just how familiar she was with the castle – let alone the other students. Weasley still seemed to dislike her, and she found herself getting quite annoyed by Granger (who only seemed to be getting along with Percy Weasley), but Potter at least seemed to like her. And that probably meant the other two would come around too, considering how close they had been in the last timeline. When the feast was over, Dumbledore again took the floor.

"Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Potter laughed, but he was one of the few to do so.

"He's not serious?" he asked with some concern.

"He probably is," Lyra said. "He may be… eccentric, but he wouldn't joke around with something like this." _Of course,_ she added to herself, _if the rumors from last time around were correct, you ended up running in there and battling Quirrell or something._

Dumbledore, for some reason Lyra hadn't been able to discern after six years of it, then initiated the school song, after which they were all sent to their beds. Lyra, together with her fellow first-years, followed Percy Weasley upstairs, and after a brief run-in with Peeves they arrived at the Gryffindor common room, which Lyra saw from the inside for the first time in her life. Weasley quickly pointed out the various areas of the common room and then led the first-year boys to their dormitory, while the other fifth-year prefect led Lyra and the other three girls to their own room.

* * *

The first week of classes started off quite normal, except of course for the part where Lyra was utterly bored during the theory. She did find, however, that actually casting spells didn't come for free. Sure, things like the Lumos from Charms and the matchstick-to-needle transformation from Transfiguration came faster to her than anyone else – and she was in fact the only one apart from Granger to achieve a transfiguration during the first lesson, earning her two points for Gryffindor – but she actually had to put work in to get the wand movements into her muscles and the incantations out of her mouth. Plus, silent casting didn't seem to work for her at all. She'd tried, after managing the vocal Lumos. In the end, she wasn't sure whether she should feel happy about that or not, as it did stop her from being bored out of her mind.

The contact with other people wasn't much different from the feast. Potter was mostly nice, Weasley still seemed unable to believe she'd been sorted into Gryffindor – and she even thought he might suspect her of getting sorted into Gryffindor as part of some evil plan or something. In fact, he actually had a point there, except for the evil part. Granger tried to answer every damn question the teacher asked and had almost no contact with her fellow first-years unless she could lecture someone. Longbottom was extremely shy, bumbled around and in general appeared to simply be comic relief. In fact, Lyra remembered that, the first time around, she'd considered him to more or less be such, at least until sixth year.

Then, on Tuesday evening, during dinner, her father entered the Great Hall. He strode towards the staff table, though his eyes found her and narrowed even as he continued walking. He stepped up to Dumbledore and said something Lyra couldn't hear from here.

"What's _he_ doing here?" she heard Weasley complain. The redhead was sitting on the other side of Potter.

"No idea," Lyra said.

"Who is that?" Potter asked.

"My father."

"Is he here for you?"

"I don't know," Lyra said. "He's part of the Board of Governors, so it could just be related to that." She doubted it though.

Lucius stepped over to McGonagall, exchanged a few words with her, then strode out of the Great Hall again. There were noticeably more eyes on Lyra than there had been a few minutes ago. Uncertain what this was about, she decided to just continue her dinner. As said dinner neared it's end, McGonagall walked over to their spot on the table.

"Miss Malfoy, your father would like to talk to you," she said with a disapproving voice. "He's waiting for you in my study. Do you need any help getting here?"

Lyra shook her head. "I should be fine."

"Remember, Miss Malfoy, that I am your head of House. If you have any problems related to your House, feel free to come to me." McGonagall left.

Translation: If your father is going to make trouble about your sorting, come to me.

Lyra finished dinner, then shooed Potter and Weasley off and left for McGonagall's office.

She entered the office a few minutes later, making sure to not show too much emotion on her face. Lucius had conjured a chair in front of the desk, apparently unwilling to take McGonagall's chair. He conjured a second, much simpler chair for Lyra to sit on, without saying a word.

She sat down, keeping her head angled low, looking at her knees, waiting for her father to start.

The silence stretched.

After what must have been about a minute, but felt ten times longer, her father spoke.

"How?"

She looked up at him, into those boring grey eyes. After a second, she opened her mouth, then closed again, no sound coming out. The truth wasn't an option, which left little for her to say.

"How could this happen?" Lucius asked. "You are from a family of Slytherins, tracing back generations upon generations both from my side and your mother's side. Why are you not in Slytherin?"

She looked down again. "The… the Hat said Gryffindor was the best match for me. I'm… I'm sorry, father."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shaking his head. "No, it is not that easy, daughter. You have disappointed me, and your mother. What's more, you have disgraced our family. I have had a long discussion with your mother upon hearing this. Depending on your behavior and who you associate with at Hogwarts, we're willing to overlook this… turn of events, but let me be clear right now that I will not be supporting you from the Board. You're on your own. What's more, I will not, in _any_ way, aid you in getting on a Quidditch team."

Lyra's mouth fell open. "What? But… father…"

"No," Lucius said. "This is not open for discussion. Now, have I made myself clear, or is there something you wish to ask me?"

Lyra stuttered for a moment. "I… No, father, there's nothing I want to ask."

He stood. "Then we're done here. Do not let me hear about you associating with blood-traitors or mudbloods, daughter. If you must, look to the other Houses for contact."

"Yes, father." She could already feel the storm coming when she'd ignore this command. "Father… what about Harry Potter?"

He sighed. "You can associate with him, see if you can explain him our cause. In fact, if you do so well enough… you may be excused from your sorting."

Lyra stood and let herself be ushered out of the room by her father after he vanished both their chairs. From the door, they immediately went different directions. Lucius didn't even look at her as she made her way to the Gryffindor Tower.

"What was it about?" Potter asked as she sat down next to him and Weasley in the common room.

"He's… not happy about my sorting," Lyra said.

"And what did you say?" Weasley asked.

She glanced at him. This might actually be an opening… "That the Hat believed Gryffindor to be the best match for me," she said.

"You?" Weasley demanded. "No way."

Lyra shrugged. "Why not?"

"You're a Malfoy!"

"I'm not my father," Lyra protested. Then, she saw the manoeuvre she should make. "If... if you really want to know, the Hat actually offered me the choice between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I… I feel a little uncomfortable with some of the views of purebloods, to be honest. That's why I chose Gryffindor."

"What views?" Potter asked.

"Most Slytherins believe that purebloods are better than halfbloods and muggleborns," Lyra said bluntly.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Lyra said. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if it's mostly because they themselves are purebloods."

"And what about you two then?"

She shrugged. "I come from a family that's always been pretty big on this blood supremacy stuff, so I guess I'm something of an exception. As for the Weasleys…" She looked over at Weasley. When it appeared he wasn't going to take over, she continued. "The Weasleys are what my father likes to call blood-traitors. Purebloods, but without caring about blood themselves."

Potter studied her for a moment. "Do you know what my father's family was like?"

"Kind of like the Weasleys," Lyra said, "only with more money."

Weasley gave an angry grunt at that. Oops.

"I'm sorry," she said, even though it had been true. "I shouldn't have said that."

He continued glowering at her, and she held up her hands. From the corner of her eye, she saw Potter fidgeting with his clothing, and decided to change the subject.

"So, did you start on homework yet?"

Weasley groaned some more.

* * *

Lyra made her way towards the dungeons, Potter on her side and Weasley next to him. The two were talking about Potions and Snape – they were about to have their first lesson in the damp cellar – but Lyra was lost in thought after what her father had said. Last time around, she'd stolen Longbottom's Remembrall, which had goaded Potter into chasing after her and catching said thrown Remembrall, which had then gotten him on the Quidditch team. She certainly wasn't going to steal the thing again, but Potter not getting on the team could very well have unexpected effects on the timeline. Plus, he really _was_ an amazing Seeker, and if she was to be a Gryffindor she wanted Gryffindor to win the Cup. Whether or not she was on the team.

As soon as they entered the classroom, her mind snapped completely into the now, however. She was a Gryffindor now, so slacking off in Potions wasn't an option. Still, her family and Snape had always been quite close – she'd even been Snape's favorite last time around – so she made sure to sit next to Potter, which would hopefully shield him from the worst of what had been thrown at him last time around – not seldomly by Lyra herself.

The roll call happened.

"Ah, _yes_. Harry Potter, our new – _celebrity_."

Some Slytherins sniggered. Lyra glared at Vincent and Gregory. She'd barely talked to them since the sorting, and was actually quite happy to keep it that way. Eleven-year-old Weasley was a more interesting conversation partner than either of the Slytherins had been in seventh year.

Snape did his little speech, then suddenly turned on the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

Now that was just unfair. Lyra wasn't even completely sure – Draught of the Living Dead maybe?

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir."

Lyra was pretty sure this wasn't first-year curriculum. Of course, knowing about bezoars couldn't hurt despite that.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

_What has Harry done to you to deserve this?_

Snape continued lowering Lyra's opinion of him. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

By now, Granger was almost floating upwards to follow her hand.

"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed, but Lyra felt more inclined to facepalm.

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Granger. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

_Can't blame Harry for snapping if you treat him like that_.

Wait.

She thought of him as "Harry" now.

Huh.

She continued writing down the answers to the questions Snape had asked, and soon they were divided into pairs to start on a boil-curing potion. Lyra had made sure she'd work with Harry, while Weasley and Granger also ended up together.

The lesson mostly continued as usual for a Potions lesson – apart from Lyra now working with Harry instead of ruining his potions to get on his nerves – until Longbottom managed to melt down his cauldron. Which really was still business as usual.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled as he vanished the partially-finished potion from the ground. The rest of the class had climbed on their chairs. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom whimpered in pain from the potion, which'd been splattered all over him.

"Take him to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Finnigan. Then he turned to Harry. "You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

"What?" Lyra exclaimed despite herself. "That makes no sense! He was busy adding the crushed snake fangs to our cauldron." She waved to the instructions. "It says right there they should be added slowly."

"Keep your tongue and return to your potion, Miss Malfoy," Snape glared at her.

"Thanks," Harry muttered as Snape left them again.

* * *

**AN: Draco belonged in Gryffindor anyway. I'd have put Hermione in Ravenclaw as well (and a few more like that), except I don't intend to 'fix' canon issues in Recursion. That by itself is worth a fic. Which is also why the Hat only talked about Draco's actions in the prologue.**

**AN: Also, I'll be participating in Camp NaNo (which is basically NaNoWriMo but in April) with Recursion, mostly to try to write more consistently. If all goes well, I'll be writing 50k during the month, but no promises.**


	3. Ch 3-4: Quidditch

**AN: These two chapters are of a more standard length for me. I considered adding a third chapter before uploading, but I believe this will work better for the outline for the remainder of first year, as I want to end an update with the end of the year.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: A Troll in the Bathroom**

The next week, the Gryffindors and Slytherins left the castle – in separate groups of course – for their first flying lesson. Over the weekend, Lyra had crafted a plan to hopefully get Harry on the Gryffindor team again, and had then spent most of her free time practicing the spell needed to put it in place.

Soon, they arrived at the practice field, with twenty brooms lying in wait.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Lyra took a spot next to Harry, muttering something about the abysmal quality of these brooms. Not that she was going to get anything better if her conversation with her father last week was anything to go by…

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called, "and say 'Up!'"

Lyra and Harry's brooms shot up in unison, but most people had more trouble, and Madam Hooch walked by the various students to help them out, then started instructing them on how to sit. Next she told them to slowly rise when she'd counted down, and like last time, Longbottom went up too early. And then didn't know how to stop.

He fell off with a nasty sounding snap as the broom flew away, and Madam Hooch took him to the hospital wing, telling them all not to move or they'd get expelled.

Lyra could see the Remembrall lying in the grass like last time around.

"He lost that ball," she said, looking around a little for show. Madam Hooch had actually helped her out by accident. "We're not supposed to move though…" Deliberately waiting a second, she pulled out her wand and pointed at the object, making sure she'd hit it correctly so it'd fly high. "_Depulso_ Remem- shit! It's going to break!" The Remembrall arced into the air.

Harry – bless that stupid Gryffindor spirit – immediately mounted his broom and flew after it, expertly catching it as it was about to touch the ground.

"HARRY POTTER!" A voice boomed over the grounds before anyone had the time to say anything. McGonagall strode towards the practice area with a shocked expression on her face. "_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts – how _dare_ you – might have broken your neck –"

"It wasn't his fault," Weasley protested.

"Be quiet, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

The look of anguish on Harry's face made Lyra feel a little bad about what she'd done, but she knew it would work out in the end. Besides, she had more pressing concerns right now.

"Why did you do that?" Weasley demanded.

"I… I didn't mean to," Lyra said, trying to look chastised. "I wanted to summon the Remembrall, but I must've used the wrong spell."

"You used the banishing charm," Granger lectured. _Yes, thank you, Miss I'm-Smarter-Than-You. I wasn't aware of that_. "The summoning charm uses _accio_, not _depulso_."

"Now Harry's going to be expelled!" Weasley said.

"There's no way he's getting expelled over that!" Lyra countered. "I've heard some stories about the things students got away with, this is nothing in comparison." Like smuggling a dragon. Flying a car to school. Organizing an explicitly forbidden Defense group.

"You should go to Professor McGonagall," Granger said. "It's your fault this happened."

"What? Me? I was just trying to get that stupid Remembrall!" Besides, she knew Harry wasn't in trouble. She couldn't very well say that, though.

"Hermione's right," Weasley said, even though it seemed to pain him to admit it.

Lyra opened her mouth, then closed it again, trying to think of what to say. Luckily, that was the moment Madam Hooch returned. One explanation later, she apparently decided to let McGonagall handle the rest of it, though she took five points from Gryffindor because Lyra had used a spell while unsupervised.

* * *

By dinner, they saw Harry again, who explained what had happened.

"You're _joking_," Weasley exclaimed.

Lyra had made sure she was sitting close enough to Weasley to allow Harry to tell them both at the same time, even though Weasley had seemed intent on glaring her to death.

"_Seeker_?" Weasley continued. "But first years _never_ – you must be the youngest House player in about –"

"– a century," Harry said, shoving some pie into his mouth. "Wood told me."

Lyra smiled. "Congratulations. I'm sorry for getting you so worried though. Should've just left that ball lying there."

"Nah!" Weasley exclaimed. "Then he wouldn't have gotten on the team!"

"I start training next week," Harry said. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

At that moment, the Weasley Twins came by to congratulate Harry, expressing their absolute trust in Harry, which Lyra considered a bit unwarranted at the moment – a first year that hadn't ever sat on a broom before today. Sure, she knew Harry would hold out fine, but they couldn't know that. Either way, the two shortly left again, and Lyra looked around the table.

"Is Longbottom back already?" she asked.

"Not yet, I think," Weasley said.

"Maybe I'll go to the hospital wing then. I should apologize, I doubt that Remembrall would've survived if it weren't for Harry's quick reactions."

* * *

The next two months passed by without much action, except for when Harry's broom – a Nimbus 2000 – was delivered. And even that really wasn't all that exciting as they brought it up to the Gryffindor common room before opening it, not to mention that Lyra already knew what it contained.

Ron Weasley seemed to have warmed up to her at least a little after the flight lesson, though he still shot wary glances her way every now and then and he still seemed to partially believe she was up to something nefarious with her sorting and befriending Harry.

Granger seemed to be completely alone – and she certainly didn't get along with Harry and Ron so far. Lyra found herself agreeing with Ron on the attitude of the girl, though she also wondered how the muggleborn had become part of the trio. Part of her was starting to think she might have unintentionally replaced her – which would make this all a lot harder, in particular if she would have to somehow get Granger into their group while working against Ron's opinion of her – an opinion that was for the most part shared by Harry, even if it wasn't as strong.

For now, it was the morning of Halloween and they were learning the levitation charm. Lyra and Granger, of course, were the first two people to get it, which by now surprised absolutely no-one. Granger had ended up next to Ron for the lesson, and was now correcting him with her standard, bossy tone.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron complained as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Lyra was about to speak her agreement when someone pushed her away in a hurry. Granger.

"I think she heard you," Harry noted.

"So?" Ron said, though it lacked the conviction from earlier. "She must've noticed she has no friends."

Lyra muttered something intelligible.

Granger didn't appear during afternoon classes, and Lyra was starting to get a creeping feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what. As they neared the Great Hall, they overheard the other Gryffindor girls talking about how Granger was crying on the toilet and wanted to be left alone. Ron now seemed to be sharing Lyra's discomfort.

She was pretty sure she was forgetting something.

They'd just started eating when professor Quirrell rushed into the Hall to remind her what _exactly_ she had been forgetting. "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." He slumped against the staff table.

Pandemonium erupted.

After several seconds, Dumbledore managed to silence the crowd with some loud bangs. "Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

The prefect Weasley immediately started ordering everyone around, but Lyra caught Harry and Ron's attention. "Guys, what about Granger? She doesn't know about the troll!"

Ron bit his lip. "You're right. But Percy'd better not see us."

They followed he Gryffindors for a moment, then ducked into a side corridor as soon as they saw an opportunity and made for the girl's bathroom, led by Lyra. After two corridors, they heard footsteps in the distance, and quickly ducked behind a statue of a griffin.

"Percy," Ron hissed.

It wasn't him though. It was Snape.

"What's he doing?" Harry wondered as the Potions Master had walked by. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"No idea," Lyra said.

Quietly, they followed him.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry whispered.

Ron held up his hand. "Can you smell something?"

"Oh, _shit_," Lyra muttered as the smell of troll entered her nostrils. It was quickly followed by a low grunting and the sound of large and heavy feet. They hid themselves best they could as the creature lumbered into view, then took a doorway a little further down the corridor. Fright crept through Lyra's spine.

"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"_What?_" Lyra whispered fiercely. "That's the _girl's bathroom_!"

The boys paled.

"We have to help her!" Ron exclaimed, running off. Harry and Lyra followed on his heels. _Typical Gryffindor behavior_, Lyra thought to herself as she drew her wand, going over the various spells she'd practiced so far. Nothing that would be able to kill a troll, that was for sure.

They rushed through the door just as a terrified scream came from the other direction, and Lyra noticed Granger sitting against a wall, petrified in terror. The troll was slowly advancing on her, crushing sinks as it went.

"Confuse it!" Ron called, picking up a tap and throwing at the wall. The troll stopped and looked around to find the source of the noise, then started advancing on him instead. The boy scrambled backwards as Lyra ducked to the side to surround the creature – probably a leftover from the battles she'd fought. Harry, bless his intuition, did the same thing and threw a piece of a sink at the troll while calling loudly. The combined effort seemed to grab it's attention as Lyra started firing banishing charms at various body parts of the troll, attempting to throw it off balance.

"Granger!" she called. "Let's get out of here!" The girl seemed to not even hear her. Harry was now pinned against the wall and the club was coming forward…

"_Depulso_!" Lyra shouted at the top of her lungs. The force his the club and it fell out of the creature's hand. It stared at said hand in surprise, allowing Harry to duck away as Ron continued throwing more rubble at the troll. Lyra continued throwing out banishing charms, knowing that a petrification curse or a stunner – which she hadn't even practiced yet – would be useless.

Now, the troll seemed to realize who was continuously pushing it's arms and legs back, however, and it started advancing on her. Behind it, Ron screamed out.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The club rose into the air behind the troll as Lyra's spellcasting turned frantic. Harry tried to divert the creature's attention by throwing yet more rubble at it, but it seemed determined to take care of Lyra first.

A pipe thrown by Harry flew in front of the troll and caught a banishing charm, propelling it into the troll with more force than the charms themselves, making Lyra realize how stupid she'd been. _Of course_ the magic resistance would extend to something like a banishing charm to a degree. Before she had a chance to change her fighting, however, Ron finished levitating the club above the troll and let go. With a satisfying _thud_ it landed on the troll's skull and the creature slumped to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Lyra stepped forward, inspecting the troll. It was Granger who spoke first.

"Is it – dead?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I think it's just been knocked out."

_Well_, Lyra thought to herself, _at least I now know how they became friends._ She shuddered as she looked the troll over.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed loudly through the corridors, and a moment later professor McGonagall burst into the bathroom, followed by Snape and Quirrell, the last of which fell down on a toilet and clasped his heart after seeing the troll.

McGonagall looked absolutely frightening.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she asked with cold fury. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Silence extended for several seconds as Lyra tried to think of something to say that could placate her. Before she'd found anything, Granger spoke up.

"Please, professor McGonagall – they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

"I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I've read all about them." Ron's wand dropped to the floor as he gaped at Granger. "If they hadn't found me," she continued, "I'd be dead now. Lyra and Harry distracted it with banishing charms and rubble before Ron knocked it out with it's own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

"Well – in that case," McGonagall said, looking at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

The girl hung her head.

"Miss Granger, ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for this, I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Granger left.

Professor McGonagall turned to the three remaining Gryffindors. "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You all win Gryffindor ten points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

* * *

**Chapter 4: Snape or Quirrell?**

"_Stupefy!_"

A bright red beam shot from Lyra's wand and hit the dummy square in the chest. A moment of concentration and the Room of Requirement spawned four moving dummies.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!_"

Lyra panted. That had taken a lot out of her still small core. At least she could reliably cast the spell now, after several hours of training. There was, of course, a reason why the spell wasn't part of the first-year curriculum, but the encounter with the troll, where she'd only been able to use a spell she had already practiced for a prior purpose, had made her realize she would probably be encountering a lot of dangerous situations if she were to be part of Harry's adventures, and she wanted to be ready for that.

She walked to a shelf next to the wall, where a glass of water appeared for her to drink. Perhaps, now that she had the stunner and a few other spells down – like the disarming charm and the impediment jinx –, she could do a little more the next time they found themselves in a dangerous situation. But for now, she was done practicing, so she left the Room and made her way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

As soon as she arrived, Harry and Ron waved her over to their customary seats.

"Listen," Harry whispered, excited. "You remember how Snape took _Quidditch Through the Ages_ away from me?"

Lyra nodded. That had happened a few days ago.

"Well, I wanted to get it back, so I went to the staff room to ask him about it. When I knocked, no one answered, so I decided to walk in and see if he was there, and I found Filch tending to Snape's leg, and before Snape saw me he was muttering something about a three-headed, well, something, and he got _really_ angry when he saw me. We're pretty sure he's had that limp since Halloween, and we thought he might've let that troll in to create a diversion for something."

"And we were thinking," Ron took over, "that it might have to do something with that third-floor corridor, so we thought we should take a look at what's actually in there. We might be able to confirm it."

"I still think you're being ridiculous," Hermione huffed. "You heard what the Headmaster said, right? Everyone who would go there would die a very painful death."

Lyra considered the idea. On one hand, she didn't _particularly_ want to know what was going on behind that door. On the other hand, she strongly suspected they were going there before the end of the year anyway, so the more they knew beforehand, the better. And on top of that, chances were they'd done so in the original timeline as well, and the more things stayed the same, the better she'd be able to predict what would happen.

She nodded. "I think we should take a look." She stood up.

"Wait, now?" Ron asked.

"Why not?"

"There's far too many people around! It's the middle of the day."

"Exactly!" Lyra said. "If we go now, no one would think we're doing anything suspicious. We just need to make sure we're not seen when we actually go to the corridor itself."

Harry nodded silently.

"I still think it's a stupid idea," Hermione huffed. She did stand up though, as did Harry. Ron joined them quickly after and they left the common room again.

As Lyra suspected, they drew little attention while they made their way to the third-floor corridor – beyond the attention Harry always drew, which luckily had gotten significantly less since the start of the school year – and within five minutes they were just one corner away. As well as alone, luckily. She took a quick look around to make absolutely certain no one was near, and they made their way for the door. Harry tried to open it, but the lock simply rattled.

"Anyone know an unlocking charm?" Lyra asked. She did, _Alohomora_, but she hadn't practiced it and wasn't certain if she could get it correct the first time she used it.

The two boys answered in the negative, but Hermione didn't answer at all.

"Hermione?"

The girl sighed as she got out her wand. "I still think this is a bad idea. _Alohomora_."

With a click, the door unlocked, and Harry carefully opened the door and they stepped through into the darkness.

"_Lumos_," Lyra whispered, mimicked by the others.

The light wasn't much – the room was quite large – but it was enough to illuminate the gigantic dog-like creature that had been lying on the floor and had clearly woken up from it's nap upon their entrance. Hermione stifled a scream behind her as three gigantic heads rose into the air to sniff them out.

"Uhm," Lyra stammered, "I think we know enough for now?"

She looked over her shoulder to find Harry nodding and feeling behind him for the door handle, apparently unwilling to take his eyes off the creature for even a single moment. Just as the Cerberus let out a deep growl, Harry threw open the door and the four first-years quickly made their way outside and shut the door behind them. As an afterthought, Lyra cast a _Nox_, again followed by the others.

Just at that moment, Peeves floated through a wall.

"Oooh, what do we have here? Ickle firsties visiting the Forbidden Corridor? Should Peeves call Filch?"

"We're just causing a little mischief," Lyra said, forcing a smirk on her face. "You won't stop us from doing that, would you?"

"Hmm," Peeves said. "What do I get out of not calling Filch?"

Lyra had started to slowly make her way towards the other parts of the castle, followed by the others.

"Must we make this hard, Peeves? We're causing chaos, surely that's enough for you to not rat us out?"

Peeves seemed to overthink that for a few seconds. "Fair enough," he finally said, then floated away.

"Let's get back to the tower quickly," Lyra said.

"That was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "I can't believe you actually talked him out of it."

"It's not something we can do every time," Lyra said, "or he won't believe us anymore. This time around though… I think I'd rather not be found here, in particular not by Filch."

"This was _stupid_," Hermione said. "We – we could've been killed. Or worse, _expelled_."

"What is a monster like that even doing here?" Harry said.

"Didn't you see?" Hermione asked. "It was standing on a trap door. It's defending something."

"I bet Snape's trying to steal whatever it's guarding," Ron said darkly.

"Snape's a teacher!" Hermione said. "He wouldn't do that."

"Then why did he go here on Halloween?" Harry asked.

"I'm agreeing with Hermione here," Lyra said. "Snape wouldn't steal from Dumbledore." After all, that would blow his cover as double agent – though Lyra still wasn't entirely sure on whose side he'd been, only that he'd been killed by the Dark Lord shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts.

"But then why was he there?" Harry insisted.

"I don't know," Lyra said. "I don't trust Quirrell though."

"Quirrell? Why?" Ron exclaimed.

"Didn't you notice, with the troll attack, how he suddenly didn't stutter at all?" Lyra said.

"I think I might've read about that sometime," Hermione said pensively, "where a stutter might get less or even disappear in a dangerous situation."

Lyra shrugged. "Something about Quirrell rubs me the wrong way."

"You just don't trust him because he has a stutter!" Hermione accused as they reached the Fat Lady. "Pig snout."

"That's not true," Lyra defended herself, climbing through the hole. "Alright, maybe it's Snape. I don't know. Let's just keep an eye on both."

"If it was Quirrell, then why would Snape go there?" Harry asked.

"To stop Quirrell?" Lyra guessed. Dumbledore had always put a lot of trust in Snape. "They arrived at the bathroom together, remember? Even though Quirrell passed out in the Great Hall."

"That _is_ odd," Hermione said before shrugging. "We'll look into it later. Tomorrow Quidditch!"

Harry looked a little nervous at the thought.

* * *

The following day, Lyra was determined to keep an eye on Quirrell. She remembered from last time around that Harry's broom had started acting up during the match, and she now suspected he might have been behind it. After all, jinxing a Nimbus 2000 wasn't easy, and students probably wouldn't be able to do it. Not even most seventh-years. And the few who could wouldn't risk jinxing the Boy-Who-Lived's broom anyway.

The match started like any other, though Lyra had to remind herself that she was surrounded by red and gold rather than green and silver, and had to cheer for the other team than she was used to. It did help that she'd usually been on the pitch for the Gryffindor vs Slytherin matches in the past.

At Marcus Flint's disgusting action of ramming into Harry while he was going for the snitch, however, she found she had no trouble crying out with the people next to her. A few minutes passed after that, with Gryffindor building up a slight 20-10 lead, when Harry's broom started lurching.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He'd joined them a little while back. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom… but he can't have…"

More people started to notice, and Lyra cursed herself for not having binoculars.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Finnigan whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid replied, voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic – no kid could do that to a Nimbus 2000."

Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, scanning the crowds.

"What are you doing?" Ron moaned.

"I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Snape – look. He's doing something, jinxing the broom."

In turn, the binoculars went to Ron and then to Lyra, who made sure to scan the crowd a little more to find Quirrell.

"What should we do?" Ron asked.

"Leave it to me," Hermione said, standing up.

"I'm coming with you," Lyra said, handing the binoculars back to Ron. "Quirrell's also doing something."

"You're sure?" Hermione asked as she made her way through the crowds.

"Positive. What are you going to do?"

"Bluebell flames on his cloak," she said.

"I'll take Quirrell," Lyra said.

Soon, they got to the part of the stands where the two professors were sitting, and Lyra attempted the incantation several times before giving up and simply pointing her wand at the professor with a whispered "_Stupefy_". The professor slumped backwards in his chair. With the little power she'd put into her spell, he should wake up in a few minutes.

Just as she finished, she heard a cry behind her as Snape noticed his robes were on fire.

Hermione came back. "It worked," she whispered.

"I got Quirrell," Lyra replied, then looked up towards the pitch. Harry was speeding downwards and suddenly clasped his hand against his mouth. Ah yes, she'd almost forgotten about that.

"I think he's got the snitch!" she exclaimed.

"Really?" Hermione said, excited.

Indeed he had, and the girls waited for him by the locker rooms to congratulate him on his first successful catch, again joined by Ron and Hagrid, after which they left for some tea at Hagrid's hut. And rock cakes that Lyra had learned extremely quickly were worthy of legend, and not because they tasted so well.

"It was Snape!" Ron said. "We saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off of you."

"Neither would Quirrell," Lyra added. "I bet one of them was doing a counter-curse."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said. Apparently, he hadn't heard a word of what had happened in the stands. "Why would either of them curse Harry's broom?"

They looked at each other, unsure what to tell him. Harry, apparently, decided on the full truth.

"We found out something about Snape," he said. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it is guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"You know about Fluffy?"

"_Fluffy?_" four incredulous voices exclaimed. Lyra really should have known better, considering the creatures he normally brought to Care.

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub last year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" Harry said eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid said. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape or Quirrell's trying to steal it!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Rubbish," Hagrid said again. "They're Hogwarts teachers, they'd do nothing of the sort."

"So why did one of them just try and kill Harry?" Lyra demanded.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them," Hermione added. "You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him."

"And neither was Quirrell," Lyra supplied.

"I'm tellin' yeh, you're wrong!" Hagrid said hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape an' Quirrell wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all four of yeh – yer meddling in things that don't concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel –"

"Aha," Harry said. "So there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

* * *

**AN: Interestingly, Lyra has already messed up the timeline by not goading the Gryffindors into roaming the castle at night and ending up in the Forbidden Corridor while running from Filch. Luckily for her, Harry and Ron's natural suspicion of Snape was enough to make them discover Fluffy anyway.**


End file.
